In plastic garden chairs

Yesterday we were so close; in the garden fixing the tyre, in the kitchen making tea, in the afternoon, against the wall, pressed against each other, and under the covers you took me in your arms until I took the lord’s name in vain (amen). We pulled ourselves apart, sitting half-dressed on the bed, a state of dishevelled shock, we pulled ourselves together, our socks up, smoothed down our hair, left the house, one through the back gate, one through the front door, we stood in the road, staring at each other, a safe distance in-between, separate ways, I got the photos, you bought the beer and stole the lime. Reunited in the garden, slices of forbidden stolen fruit, bottle necks, sitting too close, staring, unflinching, intensity unmatched, in lust, in love, in plastic garden chairs.

But when you left, the sun disappeared behind the clouds and the light faded. I think that perhaps we blew all the fuses, up in the sky. And today it stayed gloomy and rained almost all the day long.

Yesterday we were so close, yet today, today you felt so very far away. Everything has come between us again. It’s all stacking up against us, and no matter how hard we try, we cannot get close enough. Insatiable, impossible; a love affair about to hit the wall at pace.